It's Just Me

This poem captures what it is like to be a single mom and raise a son. They outgrow you. .. and still somehow you have to maintain authority although you do not have the stature or the masculinity.

It’s Just Me

By Cassie Cavanough

It’s just me when you cry

With wordless pain, 

When teeth cut through your helpless gums,

When fever sears your tiny body from the inside,

When you fall and bleed

And the blood keeps coming

And coming and coming

And there is the emergency room

And pinning your terrified body to a gurney.

It’s just me.

It’s just me when you come home,

Eyes filled with pain and tears,

“They called me n****r, Mama.

What’s it mean??”

When they smash your lunch tray into your face,

When they send their nasty minions to

Push, slam, kick, punch, 

And you are just one boy

Looking to fit in,

And I am just one parent.

I try, but I don’t scare anybody.

It’s just me.

It’s just me 

When Santa brings a bicycle.

Me, with the wrenches and screwdrivers,

The tires pumps and two inept hands.

But there will be BE A BIKE that WORKS

on Christmas morning for my baby.

It’s just me when you have to make

a soap box derby car for Boy Scouts.

Me, carving, and whittling and sanding,

Teaching you to place the decals, oh, so carefully.

And do the wheels turn?

They have to turn smoothly, 

like greased stainless steel,

If you want to win.

When Boy Scouts stand 

in readied lines before fellow racers,

parents’ hands on their shoulders, 

behind you,

It’s just me.

It’s just me

When you think you have

Come into your manhood at 15,

And your anger has you steppin’

Into my space with your jaw set and eyes on fire.

It’s just my 5’ 3” inch self

Looking up at those furious eyes and telling you,

“No, Son, NO.  You will NOT step up to me.

This is MY house, and you are my CHILD.

You are NOT a man.

You are NOT grown.

I will kick your a*s into next year if I have to,

But you will NOT step up to me.”

You realize your size 14 foot has crossed the line

And huff off into your room,

Growling under your breath.

I shake a little.

No, I shake a LOT,

Because I know that if it comes down to it,

If in your fury, you chose to go after me,

It’s just me.

It’s also just me

When I rock you to sleep,

You returning my loving back pats

as I sing you to sleep every night without fail.

When I sleep beside you when you’re sick,

Touching your forehead every 30 minutes or so 

To catch your fever if it spikes.

It’s just me

when you get your first grade report card

With straight A’s,

When you win the spelling bee,

When you devour books

Like a starved man takes his rice.

When you are a “millionaire” and 

top reader in schools after school and grade after grade.

When they tie belt after belt after belt

Around your waist at Taekwondo.

When you act on stage and make everyone

Laugh and cry and cheer and gasp.

When you use your strong man hands, shoulders,

And size 14 feet to serve the broken and displaced,

Rebuilding their shattered homes.

When it is time to CELEBRATE

Who you are,

The glory of who you have grown to be,

It’s just me. . .

Loving you,

Growing you,

And, finally, letting you go.